


Midnight

by RoryChaze



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Despair, Gen, Hurt, Injury, Isolation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, comradery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryChaze/pseuds/RoryChaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short stories set during The Clone Wars that deal with the Clones' lives, missions, dealing with the death of friends, and dealing with PTSD. No ships. I'm taking a few liberties with stories, but all characters are Canon Compliant.</p><p>Artwork done by the amazing red_b_rackham!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Darkness Before the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fives deals with the immediate loss of his batch brother, Echo.

“Echo!”

Fives began to run forward, but Rex grabbed his belt at the last minute.

“Fives. Fives!” Rex yelled and pulled Fives closer, away from the fire that was engulfing their shuttle. “Fives, I’m sorry!”

“No, Echo!” Fives continued to resist Rex’s hold and could feel his face getting hot under his helmet.

“Fives!” Rex screamed and struggled against Fives, “Echo’s gone! He’s gone and we have to move! We have to go now!” He could feel his own throat tighten at the words, but kept his focus on Skywalker’s orders and holding Fives back.

Fives stopped thrashing, but he kept muttering, “Echo… no… no…”

“Fives,” Rex hooked his arm around Fives’ waist and heaved, making both of them stumble backwards, “Fives, I’m sorry, but we’re moving.” He tugged on Fives’ belt, “C’mon, brother, we have to go.”

Fives saw something that resembled a helmet and looked away, letting himself be pulled away from the burning wreckage by Rex. The moment replayed again in his head and he lifted his weapon out of instinct and fear.

Rex gave him a gentle push, “Fives, there’s nothing we can do now besides follow the Generals. Go.”

Fives’ feet started moving, carrying him away from the intense fire and the bolts flying by his head. He was running, but running away? Running from what? He couldn’t figure out where he was, but it felt like a training exercise on Kamino. He could hear some of his other brothers, armored up, and running beside him. But where were they running? His legs felt heavy and he was short on breath. He knew he should check up on his brothers.

“How you holding out, Echo?”

“Everyone, hold.” He stopped automatically, knowing the command came from an officer.

Rex stepped into his vision and put his hand on Fives’ shoulder.

“Rex, good to see you again, brother.” Fives gave a crooked smile behind his visor.

Rex’s head turned in confusion, “You okay, Fives?”

Fives gave a curt nod, “Yeah, just asking Echo how—” The sight of the shuttle burning invaded his mind again. He could see himself reach out to stop Echo from running towards it. It was a brash move, something he would have done, but not Echo. Echo would have taken a step back and reevaluated their position, would have thought about the effects of the situation, would have been cautious and careful to the point where Fives would roll his eyes and smile. “Echo…” he whispered.

Rex’s helmet met his as he moved his hand to the back of Fives’ neck. Fives’ knew that his Captain, his friend, was trying to come to terms with what had happened as well. They had already lost so many good men.

“He’s not coming back,” Fives said with finality.

Rex squeezed Fives’ neck, “I’m sorry, Fives.”

“He’s… It’s all my…” Fives struggled against the tears threatening to fall, “I’m the last… Domino Squad is gone.”

“Fives, you know Echo,” Rex swallowed, “You know he would have wanted you to go on. To finish the mission, protect your brothers.”

Both troopers could feel the haste radiating from the group, but they stood there a minute longer.

Fives’ shoulders shook as he rocked into Rex, letting himself feel the presence of one of his closest brothers for mere seconds before he rocked back on his heels and pulled away from him. “I’m fine,” he told Rex, not daring to take off his helmet and let Rex see the lie. “I’ll be… fine.”

Rex fit one of his blasters back in its holster. “Come on, we have to keep moving.”

Fives could tell that Rex was reluctant to give the order, “Where do you need me, Captain?” He tried to make his voice sound just as strong as Rex’s.

Rex paused and sighed deeply, “Watch our back, Fives. If any Seps are coming, we need to know first.” Fives saluted and waited for everyone to pass before taking up watch. He knew Rex had placed him here out of courtesy; Rex knew that watching for Seps took a soldier’s focus from the high of battle and placed it in a quiet solitude of sentry. He was overly grateful for Rex’s observations.

Fives kept his head on a swivel, hands on his Decees, prepared for anything that came around the rocky corners of the cavern they were escaping through. He started to hope, in his slow watch, that he would see a familiar figure in blue and white walk around the corners, broken helmet under his arm, familiar blue handprint on his chest. But nothing came around the corner, and Fives shivered in the silence.

It shouldn’t have happened like it did. Fives always knew that Echo looked to him to make the decisions, that he treated Echo like a little brother even though they were the same age. He wished he could have him back, watching the shadows for tinnies with him. He recalled how after every successful mission they would high five and clasp hands, or how every time there were orders that were accidentally repeated he would imitate Cutup and say, “Is there and _Echo_ in here?”, to which Echo would get red and elbow him.

Fives sighed. “Domino Squad is no more, boys,” he said to no one in particular. He was the last of his Batch. He and Echo had made it so far, through every transfer, every mission, they had stuck together. He thought about maybe putting the “FOR HEVY” back on his armor, but also adding “AND ECHO” under it. That wouldn’t be fair to Cutup and Droidbait though. They were just as much Domino. Perhaps just “FOR DOMINO SQUAD” would do. Fives promised himself that would be his next armor project.

Fives knew he would miss Echo’s laugh the most. After Cutup, Fives tried his hand at clever comebacks and witty remarks, much to Echo’s delight. He remembered the few times that Echo laughed so hard Fives had to pull him down in a headlock just to get him to stop. He always ruffled Echo’s hair after those moments, and clapped him on the shoulder.

His helmet began to feel stuffy and he took it off, rubbing his eyes. Fives contemplated about how in Echo’s last minutes, he had acted more like Fives than Fives ever wanted him too. “Why, Echo? Why did ya have to…” Fives wiped his cheeks and sniffed. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about Echo now. His mind should be on his post, should be on the mission. Rex’s words came back to him and he fit his helmet back on. “You’re right, brother. You would’ve wanted us to finish the mission.”

He saw a metallic glimmer and readied his blaster. The first battle droid jerked around the corner and Fives shot it right through its core processor. “For Echo.”

 

 

[Artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7477461) by [red_b_rackham](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_b_rackham/pseuds/red_b_rackham)! 


	2. In the Swirling of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cody deals with the loss of Obi-Wan to the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen.

Cody took stock of the relief supplies they were dropping on Ryloth. The still torn up planet was in desperate need of help, and Cody was taking any excuse to keep his mind busy. He keyed in every crate and their asset numbers on a datapad, meticulously checking if they were correct multiple times.

“Sir,” Oddball stepped up to Cody, “Don’t mean to pry, but the boys are ready to set out. Are the supplies ready for loading?”

Cody continued marking a crate down on his datapad, oblivious to Oddball’s question.

“Uh, sir?” Oddball stepped closer, “Cody!”

Cody’s head snapped up in full alert. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest plate and the beginnings of an adrenaline rush to all of his muscles. “What’s wrong?” His face was pulled into deep lines, making his scar more prominent.

“Cody, sir,” Oddball removed his helmet and slid over to put his hand on one of the crates, “The boys and I… we were just wondering when we could load up and leave. Ryloth commed in an hour ago.”

Cody stared at Oddball glassy-eyed, but trying to focus, “I’m sorry?”

Oddball’s eyes went wide and his eyebrows pulled down, “Sir, the relief mission you scheduled for me, Rocket, Broadside, and Rudder? The one involving all of these supply crates? The one we’re supposed to be leaving on?”

“Oh! Oh,” Cody still was lost in thought, “Right. You can… you can go ahead and load them up.”

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Fine! Fine,” Cody answered a little too quickly, rubbing his eyes.

“Cody,” Oddball adjusted his helmet and flight suit uncomfortably, “Hey, we’ve got this, Commander. Why don’t you go get some rest? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Cody squeezed his temples, “I haven’t.” He let his datapad hang uselessly at his side.

Oddball reached up and gave Cody a small shove, “Go on, Cody. I’m sure General Ransis won’t mind.”

“I still have to report to him though,” He let out a strangled sigh, looked up, and waved his hand around in a circle above his head and shouting, “Load it up! I want this crew gone by thirteen hundred!”

Oddball and the troopers around him saluted and began to stack crates. Cody, however, handed the datapad to Oddball, turned without a word, and headed out of the hanger bay. He could feel Oddball watching him as he walked to the hangar door, but didn’t bother looking back for fear of Oddball just asking more questions.

Most days, Cody was able to deal with what had happened. General Ransis wasn’t so different than Kenobi, different species yes; but they had the same wisdom beyond their years when they spoke. It was just difficult to report to someone who didn’t know you. Who didn’t know _him._ Not like Kenobi had.

His pace slowed in the duristeel hallway, heavy footsteps echoing almost too loudly. Cody had always noticed when Kenobi had tried to match his pace, making a conscious effort to keep his steps in line with Cody’s. Or maybe Kenobi hadn’t done it on purpose, and they just ended up walking in time with each other as they detailed the day’s events. Either way, it always made Cody grin when he finally noticed it happening.

But Kenobi was gone. He wasn’t his general anymore. And he never would be.

All that Cody wanted to do in that moment was go find a quiet room. He wasn’t sure why, but all he could think about was sinking to the floor. His legs almost gave out on him as he kept his stride to the bridge, but he caught himself on the cold wall. What was happening to him? He was never this passive, never this forgetful. His general would be worried about how he was behaving, would question why he was forgetful, quiet, and slower than normal. No, Kenobi would be worried, Ransis wouldn’t see it.

He pushed himself off of the wall and kept walking; letting his feet carry him to wherever they were headed. He suddenly couldn’t remember. His head was reeling and he felt sad. Really sad. If he could describe it in a colour, he would say the darkest grey. Like the clouds on Kamino. But why was he so sad?

Kenobi. Right.

He stopped walking again and closed his eyes, massaging his temples in small circles. Kenobi had died. Kenobi was dead. Kenobi was gone. Forever. He was no longer Cody’s general, and never would be again.

He didn’t understand. He had lost men before. Good men. He was always saddened by their loss, but this feeling was all new to him. It felt like he was lost in a storm. It felt like he was a young cadet again, scared and crying because of a training exercise. Kenobi was gone. He hated even thinking those words. He had lost his general, his guiding light during the most intense battles, his friend during the long hours of data entry, his brother in arms.

Kenobi was gone. No, his _brother_ was gone.

Cody wiped away at wet cheeks, but the sting of tears wouldn’t stop. All he wanted was a quiet room. A very quiet room. Somewhere where he could finally mourn in peace.

But he heard the distant sound of footsteps and gruff laughter and hastily mopped at his face and shoved his helmet back on; he was the commander after all. He stood with uncertainty and began to keep walking towards the bridge, holding himself with false purpose.

The small group came around the corner and snapped into attention when they saw him. “Commander, sir.”

He waved his hand weakly, “Go about your business, boys.” He recognized all of them, but didn’t have the heart to stop and chat. He was determined to find that room. That quiet room he needed.

But then it dawned on him. He wouldn’t get a chance to take a break. Not now. Not when the 212th needed him the most. Kenobi was gone, and Cody was the only one that knew how to pick up the pieces properly. He felt the strong sense of duty to be both Cody and Kenobi for his men. Kenobi would have wanted him to keep fighting. _Obi-Wan_ would have told him to keep fighting. And he would. He needed to. For his brothers. For himself.

Kenobi was gone, but he was still here. He was the commander.

He kept walking toward the bridge to report to General Ransis.


	3. When I'm Rolling With the Punches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbara starts to take its toll on Kix.

“You sound like General Krell.”

Kix had immediately regretted it when he said it out loud. He was frustrated, angry, and definitely scared. Scared for his brothers more than he was scared for himself. Behind the dark t-shaped visor, he wasn’t sure if Rex was giving him a surprised look, or a tired one.

He guessed the latter, but only because Rex didn’t say anything back.

They had been fighting for days, and the medic was feeling the brunt of the casualties. He didn’t like this mission anymore. He didn’t like Umbara anymore. And he certainly didn’t like General Krell anymore.

Fives was talking now, and Jesse and Hardcase came up to stand on either side of Kix. Their presence was comforting, but it couldn’t take away the dark shadow that kept growing in his head. What if they were injured? What if they died right in front of him?

He heard more screams and winced, turning to figure out where the noise came from. He was certain it was someone he knew. All of Torrent Company was someone he knew. And all of them were being injured or dying left and right.

But Kix knew he was the medic, and he had to help in any way he could. It went against his mandate if he didn’t. Hell, it went against his own morals and ethics if he didn’t. These were his _brothers_.

As he slipped away and jogged towards the battle he recalled Rex and Fives both standing up to Krell, but to no avail. He knew he had more weigh with the health of the men, but remembering the way Krell had dismissed his Captain and their ARC Trooper gave him a feeling that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere as well.

Kix darted behind a glowing tree and glanced out at the battle. He could see two of his brothers getting shot at and jumped from cover firing recklessly at the assailants, catching one in the chest and killing the Umbaran. As he got up to who he now knew were Rabbit and Bullseye, he immediately checked them over for sustained injuries and asked them if they were okay. Both nodded.

“Go back to the holdout position now!” He shouted to be heard over the blaster fire and chaos surrounding them, “That’s an order from me!”

Rabbit quickly grabbed Bullseye and darted away, back towards where Rex was. “ _Away from danger. I need to get them away from danger.”_ Kix thought as he ran forward to check on another trooper on the ground. Dead.

Kix didn’t even think about who he had lost, just bounced from one body to the next as quickly as he could. Check. Dead. Check. Dead.

He circled his way back to their holdout, jogging directly to where the injured were. He set his blaster and medpack down pulling out a handful of stim shots, and began to administer them.

“There you are! Jeez!”

Kix didn’t even jump at Jesse’s voice; he was too used to it by now. “What is it, Jess?”

Jesse bent down and pushed the empty shots back into the medpack quietly.

Kix turned toward him as he finished with Hex and dropped his last shot in the pack as well. “Thanks Jess.” He carefully took the medpack from Jesse and threw it back around his shoulders, standing up.

Jesse followed his lead, but was looking down at their injured brothers.

“Jesse?”

Jesse looked up right at Kix, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey, Jesse?”

Jesse’s hand shot out and grabbed Kix’s elbow, “Jeez, Kix. You can’t… Don’t… Don’t do that! I thought you were dead! I thought you ran out to go save our brothers, but you got killed instead! You can’t do that! You have to let us know where you are. You have to let us know. Don’t do that.”

“Jesse…” Kix felt awful, but he also felt like his actions didn’t need explaining in their situation. “Hey, I’m here. I’m still here, Jess.”

“Keep it that way,” Jesse said as he let go of Kix’s arm.

Kix could hear the worry in Jesse’s voice. “I will, Jess. I’m the medic, I’m supposed to keep you all alive, remember?” He tried joking. Then he noticed the presence missing and realized what the worry was about, “Where’s Hardcase?”

Jesse didn’t answer for a minute, but then said, “He and Fives went off to capture some aircrafts to fight these… things.” Jesse’s hand wildly gestured at the All-Terrain Cannons the Umbarans were currently using to wreak havoc.

Kix’s head reeled, “Just the two of them?!”

They both flinched as a plasma cannon flew over them and exploded. Kix could hear more screams. He knew he’d remember those screams for his entire life.

He grabbed Jesse’s arm and yelled, “If he gets himself killed, I’m gonna kill him!” He looked over his shoulder at the blast site, then back at Jesse. “And you should kill him too!” He looked again. “Now c’mon! Rex needs our help!”

They sprinted straight into battle, firing at anything that moved without white armor. Jesse went one way and Kix another. “Jesse!” he called out, but Jesse kept running. Kix did too. He needed to find the injured, needed to get them to safety.

He watched someone trip ahead of him and caught up, lifting them back up by the belt, “You have to get back up. Keep moving.” He wasn’t sure if he was shouting at the other trooper, or whispering the command to himself. He didn’t care. As long as everyone kept moving, kept out of danger.

He stumbled over a body and only registered it wasn’t moving. He would keep moving. He had to. For his brothers.

He saw three troopers disappear under the large foot of an Umbaran cannon and ran towards them. His throat hurt, his eyes burned, and his finger held the trigger down on his gun.

He couldn’t hear what was happening anymore. He didn’t understand what was happening anymore.

“Kix! Bring it down! You’re wasting ammo!”

No. He wouldn’t. If he had to fight the entire Umbaran army to make sure that his brothers were safe, he would.

He promised. 

 

[Artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7477461) by [red_b_rackham](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_b_rackham/pseuds/red_b_rackham)!

\---

 

Rabbit belongs to [Raethewriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/raethewriter/pseuds/raethewriter)!

Thank you [Raethewriter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/raethewriter/pseuds/raethewriter) for letting me use Rabbit as a name, having an already established clone in another fic in my short story (even briefly) is awesome! [Here is their awesome fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1663136) that everyone should read! 


	4. And Hope is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex on Umbara after Krell's order.

No.

Rex could hardly feel the dirt under his hands and knees; could hardly see anything in the dark. 

No.

What little contents of his stomach came up and he vomited on the ground beside him. He had refused to go through this again. But here he was.

He sat back on his heels and looked up through the strange bioluminescence of the trees. This was like Teth. No, it was worse than Teth. Much worse, because he had…

He hunched over and retched again, letting a small sob escape his lips. 

He still didn’t know what made him check. Maybe it was that he always was on watch, checking over his troops even when he didn’t have to. Or maybe it was Fives’ voice in his head, constantly telling him that he wasn’t just a number and that Krell was insane.

He thanked the Force that Fives wasn’t here, and his spine twinged with the thought of what the ARC Trooper would do given the bleak circumstances. 

He hated looking into the dead eyes of another clone. He had thought it was Cody at first, the haircut was so similar, but there was no scar. Thank the stars there was no scar. He still remembered the dread that filled his stomach, cold and heavy like durasteel. It took him longer than he liked to admit to register exactly what was happening around him. That the people they were shooting at, the men they were shooting at, were other clones. Not Umbarans. Clones. 

He vaguely remembered screaming it. Running into the midst of battle with his helmet off. Prone to every sort of enemy fire imaginable. All of his instincts screaming at him to turn around or at least grab a blaster. 

Fives would have done it though. 

He would have tackled the Two-Hundred-and-Twelfth trooper too. He would’ve have kept yelling until all firing stopped. Maybe that’s why Rex did it. The fury that spilled out of him in that moment—was it only a moment?—felt more like Fives was beside him telling him what to do than his own rational could direct out of him. 

Rex spit out more bile. 

Fives was right all along, and it made Rex more furious than he’d ever been. 

“Captain?”

Rex’s head snapped up to look into the eyes of Cody. No, not Cody. Another clone. No scar. Not Cody. 

He must have given off a terrified look because the clone leaned closer, “Captain, sir. Are you alright?”

Rex knew the clone meant physically, but he couldn’t help but think of how he was feeling. 

No, I’m not okay. “Yeah,” he croaked out, giving a short nod. 

“Do you need—” 

“I’m fine, kid.” It was harsher than he intended, but his voice caught in his throat and burned. So he had been screaming. 

“Yes sir.” The clone stood up and began to jog back towards the Five-Oh-First line. 

Rex grabbed at the air where the clone had been standing, he needed something answered, “Kid!”

The jogging stopped, “Captain?”

“I need to know who gave the orders! Asap!”

“Yes sir!” The clone’s pace hastened.

Rex listened to the retreating footsteps as everything got quiet again. Not silent, though. He could hear medics shouting and men crying out, armor scraping and clacking, men shifting and moving not knowing what else to do. 

Worse than Teth. 

Not Cody. 

A bright light shone in his eyes briefly and he focused on the blurry figure beyond it. 

“Rex? Can you hear me, Captain?” 

Kix. Rex let out a sigh of relief. His medic was still here. Always making sure he was okay.

“Rex?”

Rex blinked up at Kix. 

“Captain, it’s—” 

He cut Kix off before he could say what Rex was dreading to hear. “Make sure the wounded are taken back to the base, and then get this company to me.” 

“Rex, I think—” 

“No, Kix.” Rex stood up shakily, “That’s an order.” 

“Yes, sir.” Kix saluted and rested a hand on Rex’s shoulder before walking back toward the Five-Oh-First line. 

Rex could feel his body shaking with exhaustion from the adrenaline, but he could feel a heat coursing through him as well. He had paid for this already. He had taken the blows. 

It was Krell’s turn to pay. 

He could feel his temper rising. He had never let it go this far before. But this… this was personal. He had sent his entire company out to die. His and General Kenobi’s. Cody could have been here. This was treason again the Republic. 

Rex’s mind flashed to Fives and Jesse still in detainment and silently hoped Krell hadn’t done anything to them that he couldn’t reverse.

If more men died at the hands of Krell… Rex knew what he had to do. 

He scooped up his helmet and brushed it off vigorously, half wanting to smash it into a tree and half wanting to put it back on so he could scream without anyone hearing. 

He stared at his helmet with rage and fear. No clone had gone against a Jedi and be kept in the army. Rex knew he was risking his title, and possibly his life. 

But his men… the protection of his men meant more than anything Rex had.

Krell would pay for this. He would make sure of it.

He tucked his helmet under his arm and turned to walk back toward his company’s line, but someone called out to him. 

“Captain!”

It was the kid he’d sent away earlier.

“Captain, I found their leader…” He was out of breath, but managed to get out, “It’s Lieutenant Waxer.” 

Rex’s hand clenched into a fist and his jaw was forced together so tight it made his head hurt. His fury was blinding as he began to formulate a plan.

Krell would pay with his life.


	5. Leave a Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fives and Tup have some brotherly bonding time!

Tup looked up from cleaning his deece as the door beeped and swooshed open. “Oh! Hey, Fives. I thought for a second you were the Captain.”

A grin appeared on Fives’ face as he removed his helmet and set it at the end of the table in the quiet barracks. “Here, let me help you with that.” He held out his hand, motioning to Tup to give him the scope attachment to the deece.

“Nah, you don’t have to. I’ve got it, thanks.” Tup pushed his cloth covered finger into a small crevice on the blaster.

Fives leaned forward and snatched the scope anyway, pulling a similar cloth from one of his belt pouches, “The faster this gets done, the faster I can show you something.”

Tup turned his head a little too quickly out of curiosity, “Ow! What?”

Fives kept his focus on cleaning the scope, but said slyly, “Can’t tell you. Have to _show_ you.”

“Seriously?” Tup’s eyes narrowed, “You have to show me?”

“Yup.”

He noticed that Fives was smiling so wide that it really did look like he was going to burst out with the surprise, but he just hunched further over the scope and dug in with his fingers.

Tup gave an over exaggerated eye roll and moved his hand gently over the barrel of the blaster, following the curves with his polishing cloth. He sat there another minute, making sure that it was free of all dirt, but his curiosity got the better of him again. “A hint maybe?”

Fives chuckled and shook his head. He had just finished carefully running the cloth over the scope’s lens. “All I can say is that it’s outside of the barracks.”

“That’s not a hint!” Tup waved the blaster at Fives, “That’s obvious!”

“How would you know?” Fives spoke through a laugh and held the clean scope out for Tup to take.

Tup grabbed it back from with a grumble and fixed it to his blaster, “Because you would have shown me already!”

Fives’ jaw dropped in offence, “Would not!”

“Yes you would!” Tup smiled triumphantly, “You would’ve been too excited. Not to mention proud of yourself.”

“I can keep secrets,” Fives stood as Tup did.

Tup walked over to his bunk and grabbed his helmet, “Only the important ones. That’s kind of why you’re an ARC. But the ones having to deal with our Brothers? Nah!”

Fives frowned at the new knowledge, and then let a corner of his mouth go up. He punched Tup playfully, “Fine. You’re right.” He rolled his eyes and started walking towards the door, “C’mon.”

Tup fit his helmet over his head, “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“I told you,” Fives said as he put his helmet on as well, “I have to show you.” He walked out of the barracks with Tup on his heels.

The darkness around Tup seemed to close around him and he gripped his blaster tighter. He had decided when they first landed that Umbara was no place for him and his brothers. But here they were.

“Hey, look up.”

Fives voice cut through the shadows and made Tup jump.

“Huh?”

Tup heard Fives chuckle, “Look up.”

He did as he was commanded and gasped. There were stars. Actual stars. Tup never thought he’d see a star again being on the shadow world.

“Reminds you of Kamino, doesn’t it?”

Fives’ sentiment was right on the mark. Tup nodded while keeping his head turned upward. He had never seen so many stars from a planet’s surface.

“This planet doesn’t have to be inhospitable.” Fives snorted, “Well, no planet has to be inhospitable. We might have to fight the people on the planet, but that doesn’t mean that everything on-planet wants to kill us.”

“Yeah…” Tup breathed out wondrously.

“You just have to know where to look for the beauty.” Fives walked outside of the perimeter and turned into some undergrowth, “Now watch where you’re going, Tup. You gotta look down now.”

 Tup looked down just in time to avoid a large vine, “Oh, sorry!”

Fives looked back at him, “We’re almost there.”

“You mean the stars weren’t it?”

Tup could see Fives smile over his HUD, “That was just a nice bonus.” He put his finger up to where his mouth was behind his helmet, “Quietly.”

Whispered voices started to arise from the bushes, but they didn’t sound distressed. They sounded … almost excited.

“What—”

“Shhhh,” Fives voice cut Tup off. He pulled away some more vines and reveled Kix and Jesse crouched low watching something intently.

Fives waved Tup forward and they both crawled to Kix and Jesse’s position. Tup saw Jesse bump Fives, and Kix popped up on his HUD, “C’mon Tup, this is something you don’t see every day.”

Tup crept up beside Fives and saw what the other three were watching. A small canine-like animal was licking at two black blobs by its legs. The blobs started to shift and Tup saw two tiny muzzles and thick tails. He let himself laugh quietly. They bumped into their mother blindly and shifted around each other restlessly looking for something. Tup watched curiously as they tried to stand up on their stubby legs, but flopped back down as they realized they couldn’t. The mother animal pawed at her two newborns and they let out little squeaks. Jesse almost snorted with laughter, but Kix elbowed him in time.

“Worth the wait?” Fives whispered.

Tup smiled wide and kept watching the little family with warmth spreading through him. “Yeah,” he said as Fives put his hand on Tup’s shoulder, “well worth.”


	6. Millions of Miles from Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregor realizes he's still trapped on Abafar.

Gregor opened his eyes to a calming blue. He tried to move his arms, his legs, and his body. He tried to sit up, but there was an impenetrable weight on his back. He blinked into his HUD but nothing happened. No vital signs showed, no armor damage readouts, nothing. Just blue.

He started to breathe faster as he realized he was trapped. Trapped with his armor still on and this increasingly annoying blue light.

He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there, but he knew he had to move. That was what his training taught him. Keep moving through the obstacles and complete your mission.

He moved his fingers on his left hand and found they were painful to ball up, but otherwise free of breaks. His right hand felt like it was gripping something for dear life and he realized it was his decee. He squeezed the trigger and he could hear the blaster go off, but it seemed to echo around him almost. Pulling his right arm with his decee, Gregor managed to squeeze it up next to him and shake his helmet loose from his head.

The helmet fell with a resounding thunk and all Gregor could see was what was immediately in front of him, illuminated by the soft blue glow from his helmet. He pressed a gloved hand above his head and felt cold durasteel, to his left more cold durasteel, but to his right was a cylinder shape that gave a little. He pushed cautiously against it and heard creaking and grinding coming from the surrounding durasteel. His eyes widened as he realized he’d need his helmet back on to get out.

But with his helmet on he was blind.

He sighed, rather blind than have a bashed in skull.

His fingers scrambled at the helmet and he managed to press it back on his head by scraping it against the ground a few times. He winced as he did, but his helmet had taken a worse beating than that before.

He pushed himself up as far as his left arm would let him, rolling a little to help him shimmy it out of its stuck position. It hurt as he pulled it, but he could feel his gauntlet scrape and slide so he pulled harder and bit his lip through the pain.

It came loose with a final tug, but the durasteel around it started to slide closer to him. Gregor caught it with his back plate and pushed himself up on to all fours using all the strength he could gather up. The wall shifted again and he kept pushing back, using everything he had. He was determined to make it out of here.

He could feel his legs free as pushed to the side and hopped quickly into a squat. Hissing at the pressure and weight that was now on his shoulders, he stood and threw his arms up, releasing the durasteel that he had been under. Something small and hard fell on his head and he flinched, “Ow!” Good thing he was wearing his helmet.

Gregor stood there for another minute, blind through his helmet, but free of any weight that had previously been pinning him down. He hesitated to take off his helmet knowing that something else could fall onto him.

He put his hands up to his pressure seal and released it, moving his helmet off slowly.

The world was painfully blinding. He wanted to slam his helmet back down on his head, but resisted.

Shielding his eyes he opened them slowly, squinting into the orange light. He could only make out a few colours, orange, yellow, grey… He lowered his arm and really started to look around.

What was this place?

There was smoke rising from different areas, sparks flew around from severed wires, and a low buzz was emitting from what seemed to be the outskirts of the destruction.

Ruin. That was all he saw.

But who ruined it? And why?

He climbed over a large panel of durasteel and landed on the other side silently. He could hear a faint whirring that he recognized, but couldn’t place why he recognized it.

He squeezed his decee and pulled his helmet closer to his body chuckling nervously, trying to remember why the whirring made him tense up.

“Roger roger.”

The noise wasn’t far from his position, and everything in his body was telling him to turn around and get away from it. But why?

He shook his head and peeked around a couple of toppled boxes finally viewing what was making the noise.

He gasped and immediately darted back for cover. Droids. Battle droids. How could he forget?

He leaned out again and counted how many there were.

Seven. A squad.

His body protested darting away again, knowing that he could take them all. But he didn’t have his HUD, which had his targeting gear.

He chuckled to himself again, that wouldn’t be a problem. They were lousy shots. He could get them all before all of them decided to fire back on him.

He’d do it. Just to show them he could. He outright laughed this time while he gingerly set his helmet down and readied his blaster. Oh he’d show them.

He jumped out, tucked into a roll, and stood, hitting a stance that was perfect for aiming. He shot three down before they even knew what was happening.

“Hey! Get him! He shot three-five-eight!” The droids scrambled around.

Gregor laughed and shot another. This was… fun! He moved as they shot back and was able to down another. Only two left.

He laughed again and rushed them, kicking one down and shooting it, then cutting the last one’s head off with his vibroknife attached to his gauntlet.

He took a deep breath and kicked one out of the way as he headed back to his helmet. That should teach ‘em not to mess with a clone.

Clone.

That term sounded familiar.

But where did it come from? Why did it think about it?

Gregor bent down and picked up his helmet, clutching it tightly. He looked up into the dark orange sky curiously. It seemed to pull at him, like it wanted him to fly right up there and out into space. Like someone was waiting for him.

Clone.

Was he a clone?

He looked down at his helmet. He had seen other helmets like his before, but different.

He frowned. He was a soldier, sure. That he knew, like it was part of his soul. But a soldier of what, he didn’t know.

He looked back at the sky and felt the pull again. Someone was waiting for him.

Clones. Brothers.

His brothers.

Gregor stared at his helmet’s visor and remembered. There were other soldiers, others like him. They missed him, and he remembered he was thousands of parsecs away from any of them. Alone.

He squeezed his helmet tighter.

I’m coming. Don’t worry, brothers. I’ll find my way home.


	7. In the Swirling Swimming On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse tries to come to terms with Hardcase's death.

79’s was loud, but honestly not loud enough for Jesse. He wanted it louder and able to drown out all of the thoughts that he was thinking about at that moment.

“Hey Jess, want another one?”

Jesse looked over at Kix and nodded. Kix, he noticed, didn’t have a smile on his face either.

He watched as Kix got up and moved closer to where the droid running the bar was at. Jesse wondered if Kix was thinking about the same thing as he was. He was almost sure of it, given that Kix hadn’t so much as grinned in the past week or so.

But Kix hadn’t been there. He hadn’t watched as Hardcase pulled the torpedo launcher from the starfighter. Hadn’t seen Hardcase’s determined face as he pulled it behind the shields.

Jesse scratched at the bar top, tracing patterns he would never see again. He didn’t blame Kix for not being there, no; but he did blame himself for not trying harder to get Hardcase to stay in his fighter.

That line kept replaying in his head. _“If I know Hardcase, we better do as he says.”_

He could’ve tried harder. Could’ve made Fives order him to stay. Could’ve yelled at Hardcase to get back in the fighter like Fives was doing.

But no. All he could manage was, “If I know Hardcase, we better do as he says.”

Why didn’t he fight harder for Hardcase? Maybe it was because he could tell Hardcase’s fighter was severely damaged. Or that he knew they might not make it out. He knew Kix was worried about that as well. And he had promised Kix to come back safely. They had all promised him they’d come back safely.

But one promise was broken, and it was his fault for not fighting hard enough. Jesse knew he could’ve stopped Hardcase, he just knew. But at the same time, Hardcase’s resolve had shattered Jesse’s worry.

“If I know Hardcase, we better do as he says.” And he did know Hardcase. Better than anyone, save Kix. He knew that Hardcase was reckless and brave. He knew Hardcase would rather see himself go in a heroic way. He knew Hardcase was determined to mow down as many tinnies as he could. Well, that day he blew up more tinnies than even Captain Rex had. Jesse was proud of Hardcase, but it was so hard to get through the rest of the war without him.

A drink was set down in front of him and slowly pushed closer. Jesse pulled it into his hand, but didn’t take a drink, still tracing patterns on the bar top.

“Hey, remember that time,” Kix bumped him with his shoulder, “that Hardcase was trying to get that fruit for me from that tree on Tanaab? And you helped him?”

“Mhm.” Jesse didn’t know how else to reply. He wasn’t too thrilled with Kix trying to cheer him up.

But Kix kept on, “And then both of you fell out of the tree and you sprained your ankle, and Hardcase had to carry you all the way back to the base. But he couldn’t stop laughing, could he?”

Jesse sighed, he remembered that day. All Hardcase wanted to do was make Kix feel better because there had been an influx of shinies into the med tent after their last campaign. Then they had gotten stuck in the tree.

“What about, remember, remember when—”

Jesse cut him off, “No offence, Kix, but I’m really not in the mood.”

Kix pressed up against him and sighed out, “No, I know.”

Silence passed between them as they sat there, leaning on one another for more than just comfort. The music still wasn’t loud enough, but he was glad Kix was here. Even if he was doing a terrible job at trying to cheer him up.

Jesse didn’t want to think about Hardcase. In fact, he’d rather think of anyone else. He could think of Rex, how his Captain had had a harder time since Umbara than the rest of them. Or maybe about Fives and how he was right all along. Or Dogma, who was currently on trial for doing what was right. But every one of them led him back to Hardcase.

“Hey.”

Jesse was surprised to hear Kix’s whisper from beside him, but maybe it was just that he was hoping Kix would know what to say, what to do.

“Yeah?” Jesse bumped his head to Kix’s lightly.

“I found his stash of flimsi.”

Stash of flimsi? Hardcase’s stash of flimsi? “What?” Jesse sat up quickly, putting Kix off balance. He caught Kix by the chest as he started to slide off the bar chair.

Kix grabbed Jesse’s shoulder as he slid, but righted himself with Jesse’s help, “Thanks.” He looked up at Jesse and repeated, “I found his stash of flimsi.”

“You mean…” Jesse looked dumbfounded back at Kix.

“Yeah,” Kix grinned for the first time in days, “The stash he kept to draw on.”

“You have it with you?” Jesse couldn’t believe it. He and Kix had spent hours watching Hardcase draw patterns and armor designs, trees and flowers, animals and people they had come across in their travels to different worlds. They always went looking for the pictures after he was done with them, hoping to find them among his things. But he always hid them well. It was strictly against regulations to own anything outside of their military gear.

Kix was shaking his head, “No, I had to slip them in my medpack for safe keeping.”

“But you have them.” Jesse knew the sketches would be safe in Kix’s bag. Nobody but other Medics went through the medpacks, and currently Kix was the only surviving Medic for the Five-Oh-First.

“I have them.” Kix put his hand up to the side of Jesse’s neck, “I have them and you can look through them any time you want. But they should probably stay with me, yeah?”

Jesse finally grinned back at Kix, “Yeah.”

 


	8. When I'm Rolling With the Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolffe loses his eye, and thinks he's lost his General too.

His head _burned_. And Wolffe had been burned before, but this felt like his skull was splitting apart. He could feel a burst of cold on his face and realized his helmet had been knocked off.

No, not knocked off. His left ear still felt warm and covered.

What happened?

He tried opening his eyes, but it _burned_. Why did it burn so much?

His gloved hand went up to his face, but he stopped himself short. He couldn’t—he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see even the shadow of his hand. Kriff! Something warm slid down his face and Wolffe gasped as the cold air stung, forcing his left eye open.

There was Ozzel looking as if someone had shoved him down into the snow. He was shouting orders again, and Wolffe really wished he wasn’t. He could hear it, but faintly. “The Jedi are gone! We have to retreat! Back to the ships! Retreat!”

Wolffe caught a red glow from the corner of his left eye and it all came back to him.

Ventress.

That Harpy had gotten him while he had tried to defend Ozzel. Damn Ozzel!

He grunted as he stood and tried to get his helmet off. The coms were useless, his HUD no longer worked, and the constant stabbing pain was getting annoying. He pulled, but something dug into his skin and he hissed in pain. Okay, the helmet was staying on.

“The Jedi are dead! Retreat! Retreat!”

Wolffe looked around through his darkened visor and saw his Wolfpack squad darting away from the AATs. They were, clearly, outnumbered. Maybe there was something to Ozzel’s orders. But that meant…

Plo.

He half ran half stumbled to where his squad had ducked behind a tipped speeder for cover. “Boost,” Wolffe growled, “What the hell is going on?”

Boost looked at Wolffe and drew back quickly, “Fierfek. Commander, your—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Wolffe’s lips pulled at the jagged edges of his helmet, “Report!”

“Kriff, erm,” Boost kept looking around, making sure no droids were out-flanking them. “Ozzel’s saying all the Jedi are dead, and we’re to retreat, but there are no ships to retreat to!”

Wolffe gave Boost’s helmet a pat, “Keep the Seps busy.” He readied his blaster and stood up from cover, wincing as the shock of wind hit his wound.

“Where are you going?!” He could hardly hear Boost yell at him.

Wolffe shot off a few rounds, “To find General Plo!”

He took off towards the tanks, going against the oncoming storm of blaster fire. The flak was heavy, but he broke through to the other side with only some new ugly carbon scoring on his armor. He only needed one person right now, and he was determined to get to him.

Plo couldn’t be dead. Wolffe would have known if he was. Would have _felt_ if he was. But would he? He was not a Jedi like Plo was, so what made him think he knew his General was still alive.

_“The Force flows through everything, Wolffe. It’s how intuition, reflexes, and insticts work. It’s how I know that you are upset about the Triumphant, and how you know that I do not blame you.”_

Wolffe didn’t care much about the Force, but he did care about Plo, and he was going to find him no matter what. That was what a Commander did; help their General during their greatest times of need.

He dug into the deep snow drifts and made his way up the mountain. The last known position of Plo and his fellow Jedi was up at the weather station, which was only 2 kilometers away, not far at all.

Wolffe was going to make it. And if he didn’t make it, he hoped he died trying.

He pushed through the building snow, praying to whatever gods there were, praying to the Force, that he’d find his General up there. That Plo wouldn’t be lying dead somewhere.

Wolffe needed Plo as much as he knew Plo needed him.

He guided Wolffe, made him better, helped him understand. The ferocity that Wolffe loved Plo could be compared to a son and his father, or so Wolffe thought. He had really never had a father, except for Plo. He was Wolffe’s father. And as a son, he would do everything— _anything_ to make sure Plo was alright.

He rounded the cliff side that the weather station was on and saw… nothing. No destruction. No battle droids. No Jedi. No workers. Nothing.

“General!”

Wolffe cursed his helmet for being slashed through. He couldn’t turn on his loud speakers so that he could be heard easier.

“GENERAL!”

He throat burned from sucking in freezing air, but he was determined to find him.

“GENERAL PLO!”

He walked closer to the weather station, hoping that his General would finally hear him.

“PLO KO—”

Wolffe could see, could _feel_ , the blast before it even hit him. The reds, oranges, and yellows looked stunning and terrifying all at once.

His eye widened as he realized what the explosion meant. Meant for him. Meant for Plo.

“NOOO!”

Everything shattered around him. The snow both burned as froze as it hit his face. Durasteel flew around him, along with half of the cliff side.

Everything when black all at once.

\---

“GENERAL!”

Wolffe shot up. Unaware of where he was, but knew only one thing mattered.

Plo.

His world was dark, but he didn’t care. He needed to find Plo.

“Calm down, Commander,” someone was saying as they grabbed his shoulders.

“No!” He fought hard against them, “Let go! General!”

He had failed. He was still alive, but his General… Plo was dead.

Wolffe grabbed at the hands that were forcing him back, trying to make him sit back and do nothing. But nothing was what he had done, and he had paid for it. He had lost the closest thing to a father, because he had done nothing. He dug his nails into skin and tried to pull them off.

“Wolffe, calm down.”

He would _not_ calm down. It was his fault. His fault.

“General! No…”

“Wolffe, listen to me.” Strong hands held tighter, “Listen to me, son.”

Wolffe stopped and gasped. He could feel his face, hot and wet, and suddenly felt ashamed.

“I’m right here, Wolffe. Right here.”

The deep voice was the most comforting thing Wolffe had ever heard. “General?”

“Yes, son.” A hand moved to his cheek and he could feel its oversized fingers, so different from his, moved to wipe away tears. While the other hand pulled at the cloth carefully wrapped around his head.

It came loose, and Wolffe blinked into the white light and sunburnt orange figure sitting in front of him. “General.” Wolffe didn’t know what to do, how to feel. His world was dark out of one eye, but he could clearly see the light out of the other. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, General. I’m so sorry.”

He was gently pulled towards Plo. His scent enveloping Wolffe like a blanket. He could feel one of Plo’s hands on the back of his head, stroking his hair with comfort.

Wolffe was crying, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He could only keep repeating, “I’m so sorry.”

 

\---

 

Inspired by [this picture](http://jasjuliet.tumblr.com/post/103363054532/he-wonders-if-his-general-came-because-they-were) by [JasJuliet](http://jasjuliet.tumblr.com/)


End file.
